Lessons
by JetNoir
Summary: With a deadly killer on the loose, Clarice Starling must find and destoy it, while attempting to unwravel the mystery of Dr Lecter's frequent communications.
1. Chapter One

**h a n n i b a l**

**LESSONS**

**a fanfic by JetNoir**

**Note:** This story follows on from the film's ending, as opposed to the novels.

CHAPTER ONE

Dearest Clarice,

Why am I writing, to what ends, what purpose. I escaped you again, at no small cost to myself, and now, I am baiting the lion. Is this wise? Is it love, dear Clarice, or am I merely dreaming. I doubt even a Taoist philosopher could determine.

When I decided to come out of retirement, I realised that you would be called in. Now, disgraced, alone. Did Mason Verger's plot to catch me, destroy you? Obviously not, because there you are, back with the FBI. Called in to determine a high-profile case.

Goody-goody.

It's almost reminiscent of your stopping Jame Gumb. But I'm afraid, Clarice, that this is no Buffalo Bill. Will you find him in time?

I miss Firenze, Clarice, I almost miss Pazzi. Perhaps you should try looking onto your past again. I'm glad, however, that the lambs have stopped screaming.

I know that you will come after me, and this is just part of the game. Will you stop me? Or will you stop your target.

Choices, choices, but which will you choose.

I await, eagerly, Clarice.

For now, ta-ta.

**Hannibal Lector. M.D.**

--

She nearly wept when she saw the unmistakable handwriting, why now? Her probation was only due to last another few months, but.

_Around and round we go_

The dance, the chase.

What did Lector want? He wouldn't have contacted her unless there was something he wanted. He wanted her. So that's the motive.

But what could he possible gain from this? She wished that Jack Crawford were still alive, perhaps he could make sense of all this.

Now, however, she had a meeting, and had better reveal the communication.

Sometimes she wished she lived in the past.

--

The case had drawn much attention in the media, as the murders appeared to be simply random. The only link, the only clue was that the killer cut off the little finger of the victim, whilst they were still alive. Death usually occurred a few hours later – either by strangulation, or simply suffocation, although one had been stabbed through the heart. As due to protocol, the detail about the finger had been kept confidential, to prevent copycat killings. There was nothing to link the victims, nor was there any DNA evidence on the corpses. The FBI were perplexed, as were local law-enforcement. They knew that the killer had to be stopped, and soon. But how?

As such, the murderer had gained the nickname of: 'Revenant'.

--

Once again, on the move, back to Washington, flying. Hannibal Lector sighed, and gracefully peeled a fig. The wonders of modern technology, his wrist had been reattached, plus the bonus of plastic surgery – something the Doctor despised, but felt was necessary to remain anonymous.

He was going back, back to the lion's den, to Washington D.C.

It was time to hunt.

--

**Note:** Hope you enjoyed that, and please review!

**Disclaimer: **Hannibal is copyright to Thomas Harris; and the story to me. This story has been written on the understanding that you may read it and print it out; but you may not pass it off as your own, hire it out, or sell it for money. You also may not put it on your own or any other web page without my express written permission. Thankyou!

**JetNoir**


	2. Chapter Two

**h a n n i b a l**

**LESSONS**

**a fanfic by JetNoir**

**Note: **Just a warning, that I've bumped the story up to an 'R', to be on the safe side. My imagination went a bit macabre on this chapter! Oh, and there are some spoilers, but I suppose that is to be expected!

CHAPTER TWO

Dear Clarice,

I suppose you will be wondering why I have written to you in such quick succession. Well, expect more – this twisted story of ours will continue for some time yet. It is perhaps fortunate that you have been assigned to this particular case. Perchance you stop off at the FBI archives, requisition Will Graham's file on Francis Dolarhyde.

Yes, Clarice, it's not so different now, you see I _know_ Revenant.

Surprised? I suppose that nothing could now, but...? I'm willing to give him to you, but are you, Clarice, willing to give me what I so desire? Hmmm, perhaps a little silence is required, Clarice. Will you take this titbit of information to your superiors or not?

Your choice, of course. Ah, how rude I am, a little clue for free, to show my good intentions. The little finger that is the key. What does the Revenant do with it?

How do I know that? The game continues, Clarice.

**Hannibal Lecter.**

--

Dr Chilton leered over her as Clarice Starling wept. She was naked, and as she was desperately trying to cover herself, she turned and.

Jack Crawford's face was next to hers, shaking his head in disappointment at his _protégés _failure. Clarice ran on and.

The monster himself, Hannibal Lecter was at the end of the hall, in shackles, but...he was slowly taking them off. He smiled politely.

"Now, now Clarice, lets eat. Food will take your mind off things." Clarice gasped as she realised what he meant and.

A lamb ran towards her screaming, blood pouring from its eyes. Clarice shrieked as it leaped forward, its small sharp teeth sinking into he leg and.

--

With a strangled scream, Clarice Starling woke up, and in a shocked surprise, fell out of her bed with a loud clump.

She disentangled herself form the bedclothes and checked the clock. 5:30am. She knew that she would never get to sleep now, so she got up, pulled a robe on, and went to the kitchen to make some coffee.

--

However, Starling was not the only one who was finding it difficult to get to sleep, as thirty-two year old, mother-of-four Angela Grey cried bitterly and quietly on the cold dank cave that she was being incarcerated in. At the other end, the figure loomed silently watching her. It was faceless and eternal, or at least seemed that way to Gray's feverish mind.

Hours passed, and the thing was as still and silent as a statue.

Was it asleep? Surely it had too sometimes. Realising that she wasn't bound, she rose slowly and quietly to see what affect the action would have on her captor.

Nothing.

It didn't move, breath...anything. Angela Gray crept quietly and quickly towards the tunnel leading to the cave's entrance. When she turned the corner she breathed a sigh of relief. Free!

"I suppose you think that was terribly clever," a soft cultured voice said in front of her. Angela jumped and cried out in fright as Revenant appeared out of the darkness _in front of her!_ It sighed wearily.

"You really are becoming a bother madam. Perhaps I should just kill you now, and get it over with. However, you are the first that have tried to escape, and for that I applaud you; your courage is unquestionable. In fact I am almost tempted to let you go. Almost."

"But how were you in two places at-" Angela was interrupted as Revenant gently pushed her into the cave, and pulled out a gun, aiming it at Angela's head. It pulled the trigger, and the cavern echoed with a loud bang. A moment later, Angela twisted and gazed in horror at the black clad figure lying dead on the floor, feathers flying out of the mask. It was just a large doll.

"You were just toying with me," Angela whispered, "like a pet dog."

"Yes," Revenant replied simply, "a very apt simile. However, although I am enjoying our banter, I'm afraid that our time has run out. Au Revoir, and please say hello to the big guy from me."

With shocking speed, it reached out to Angela, spun her around and elegantly snapped her neck, ending her life painlessly, with all the grace and poise of a ballet dancer. Not quite satisfied however it reached into its clothing and pulled out a flick-knife. The blade slid out, and reflected the light from the scant fire. Revenant twisted its hand and forcefully cut the little finger of her hand off. It then gently wrapped the severed digit in some cloth, and in a breath of wind, disappeared.

--

LONDON

"We've picked him up. He's back in D.C."

"_Now I wonder why that would be."_

"We're unsure to. Since the liquidation of Verger's estate, we presumed that he would remain in hiding for some time."

_"But didn't he say in that letter to Starling that he was 'coming out of retirement'. Perhaps he means to see her again. Also, there are these new letters. Begin to tail Starling, with any luck, he'll come to her."_

"Understood. What about this Revenant, though?"

_"Don't worry. I'll soon take care of the young upstart."_

--

Hannibal Lecter smiled at the familiar smells of Washington poured over him. His flat was small, but satisfactory, and as he walked into a bookshop he remembered that last time that he'd been here. Lecter was glad that Verger was dead, especially in that particular way. Such sweet, poetic justice, and now...the possibilities were endless.

His eyes drifted to the Classics section, and his hand found:

_Le Rouge et Le Noir_. An English translation of, not the original, but still. Scarlet and Black. Blood and Night.

_If on a winter's night, a traveller._ Lecter raised an eyebrow, this was quite an obscure title, and again a translation. It didn't matter much though, Hannibal was sure that he would survive.

_The Divine Comedy._ He nearly laughed out loud! In his hurried departure from Firenze, he had left his copy behind. Still smiling he grabbed it.

With the books tucked securely under his arm, he left the shop to find some lunch, and a nice glass of Chianti...

--

**Note:** I know (for some reason) that everybody believes the liver/fava bean quote was with Chianti, and unless it's different in the film version of Silence of the Lambs (which I have not seen), then the book states that it is _Amarone_, which is something completely different! Anyhoos, what's going on in London, and what is Revenant going to do with that finger? Find out next chapter, as the body count rises, and an old face is called upon! Hope you enjoyed it, and please review!

**Disclaimer: **Hannibal is copyright to Thomas Harris; and the story to me. This story has been written on the understanding that you may read it and print it out; but you may not pass it off as your own, hire it out, or sell it for money. You also may not put it on your own or any other web page without my express written permission. Thankyou!

**JetNoir**


	3. Chapter Three

**h a n n i b a l**

**LESSONS**

**a fanfic by JetNoir**

**Note: **Just to let you know that this chapter is a bit gory! Also, I am taking the presumption that the movie took place around about the Millennium. Please tell me if I'm wrong!

CHAPTER THREE

Dear Clarice,

Yes, another letter it is. I know that I run a small risk of you tracing these communiqués, but I am willing, it just makes it more…fun. However, I am slightly busy at the moment, like – no doubt – you probably are. So, I will be brief.

After your failure to apprehend me, I am curious. Is this desperate quest to find the Revenant a misplaced attempt to impress the people that once spurned you, the FBI? Hmmm?

Twenty-six, in Le Rouge et Le Noir. A superficial clue, but perhaps something that you may find useful nonetheless.

Why am I doing this? Simple, because it amuses me.

Are you paying attention?

**Hannibal Lecter.**

--

DEPARTMENT OF BEHAVIOURAL SCIENCE, FBI

Clarice Starling looked exhausted as she walked into what was affectionately called 'the dungeon'. Once the domain of the late Jack Crawford, now it was home to Starling and a small team of experts that she had recruited from various departments a few days ago. Elias Irons; had a long history with law-enforcement. Matthew Ito; was from the field of Computers, recruited by the Bureau from Microsoft to handle the significant increase in computer crime. Dr Lilia Derevko; was from the field of forensics, especially pathology and of course Clarice handled psychology and profiling, with additional forensics. They were all experienced Bureau officers, but out of the four, there was no doubt that it was Clarice in charge.

"Good morning Clarice," said Matt Ito, smiling over his laptop. He was the oldest of the four, fifty-six, and his receding hairline was a cause for jokes between them. Lilia swivelled, and handed Clarice a slim slip of paper.

"Nothing on location yet," she murmured, "he's good, but we're getting there." She was of course referring to the frequent letters from Lecter.

"Where's Irons?" Starling asked.

"Stuck on a plane," Lilia replied, "the conference went on for later than expected. However perhaps that is not the only reason." Her young pretty face twisted into a slight smile, "perhaps he became a little…friendly…with someone while he was there." Her voice was clear, with a hint of Russian accent, and that voice began to laugh, as did Matt, and Clarice, their laughter blending into a merry sound at the knowledge of the 'exploits' of their friend and colleague.

The laughing died down, and a few moments passed before Lilia asked Clarice:

"Look, the last few days have been so busy I never got a chance to ask. Why have they called the killer Revenant? It just doesn't fit!" Clarice looked up:

"You didn't know?" Lilia shook she head, and Clarice continued.

"We – that it, the FBI – believe that Revenant killed his first victim in 1997. We got a blood sample, but for some bizarre reason, we could only get a blood type, and it's _rare_. When Revenant reappeared, we got another blood type, and it's the same. Also, we never released certain details about the killings to the press, so no false confessions. That detail was the finger. The department first called his KFC, but we had to find something a bit less…disgusting."

"KFC?" asked Lilia, "What does that mean?"

"As in the restaurant," said Matt, "because the slogan was 'finger lickin' good'. Some student came up with it, and it stuck." Lilia winced.

"That's horrible!" she exclaimed.

"That's why we changed it," said Clarice.

--

The night was dark, and Lecter was hungry.

He prowled the alleyways, determined to find something palatable. Outfitting a new house, just outside D.C. was a chore, especially the money he had invested with the delicious meal of Paul Krendler. Now, however, as he lifted the small hypodermic needle slightly, he set his sights on the target. A tramp. A bum. A waste of society.

He was oh so going to enjoy this.

He crept up, as silent as a bat, or rather, a lamb, and stabbed the sleeping tramp with the needle, quickly pressing the plunger.

As he slid the body into his car, Dr Lecter believed that tonight, he would taste sweetbreads again. It had been such a long time.

--

PARIS

"_Where has he gone too? Disappeared."_

"I'm unsure. We have agents in every major city in the world, although our search is concentrated on D. C."

"_We're running out of time."_

"I know…One question, however."

"_What?"_

"Why is Revenant a he?"

_"I don't know who Revenant really is. He used to be called The Lost, but as we don't know gender, I used a generalised 'he'. Now. Get to work."_

--

The darkness was also with Revenant as it smiled. It unwrapped the piece of cloth, and, there it was. The severed finger, no worse the where for a day in the fridge. It was looking forward to this.

It decided to put some music on, and eventually settled for _Night On A Bare Mountain_ by Mussorgsky.

Finally, unable to wait any longer, Revenant placed two fingers on the bone in the centre, and ripped it out with one violent movement. The finger collapsed, blood spurting everywhere. Revenant closed its eyes, picked up the finger, and slowly, relishing every mouthful, ate it.

The macabre feast lasted no longer than thirty seconds, but suddenly Revenant felt it again. The urge.

The killing would never stop. Not now. Not for all eternity…

--

**Note: **I sometimes worry at what my overactive imagination comes up with. Just wanted to say, hope I didn't offend anyone with the finger (but Hannibal _is_ a cannibal!), and hope you liked the new characters! Also, a thankyou to FantaC, who sent me a lovely e-mail, and I hope I answered your questions about Revenant's name, also your prediction about the 'pinkie sandwich' was not too far from the truth! Hope you enjoyed it, and please review!

**Disclaimer: **Hannibal is copyright to Thomas Harris; and the story to me. This story has been written on the understanding that you may read it and print it out; but you may not pass it off as your own, hire it out, or sell it for money. You also may not put it on your own or any other web page without my express written permission. Thankyou!

**JetNoir**


	4. Chapter Four

**h a n n i b a l**

**LESSONS**

**a fanfic by JetNoir**

**Note: **As I'm writing this I've realised that I have made a huge mistake. Somehow, I made the mistake that FBI HQ is in Washington – obviously it being in Quantico. Therefore I beg the reader's indulgence that this 'dungeon' is in the Washington department of the FBI. Also, the team have been recruited for a few weeks, not days – that's a simple typo on my part! Thankyou and enjoy!

CHAPTER FOUR

Another day, another letter.

--

Well Clarice,

Any luck on 'Revenant'. Probably not, nothing on the ever-intrusive news.

Did you follow up on my little clue? Knowing you, as I do, probably not. Afraid of a trap? Not the Clarice I remember.

It makes little difference, seems that this game of chess is far from over. Are you the Knight Clarice? If so, then who is Death???

However, there are certain things I believe you must do. Letter Two. Archives. Don't forget.

It seems that once again, you have been redeemed. Your fame on Gumb's case, your fall from grace – all too recent – and now, back in the spotlight.

Can you handle the pressure Clarice? Can you really?

Please believe, I do not doubt you, but if you are not at full strength, then it just won't be fun!

However, I am going to accelerate events. I want you to get into contact with me. Oh yes, shock-horror. Is your nerve steady? Or perhaps I over exaggerate slightly.

Details follow Clarice. I'll be seeing you…

**Hannibal Lecter.**

--

DEPARTMENT OF BEHAVIOURAL SCIENCE, FBI WASHINGTON

_You would think that such a day would tremble to begin…_

The words echoed around Clarice Starling's head as she slowly slipped scolding black coffee. It must be something she had read somewhere…but…

Maddening. She couldn't get it out of her head.

Nine a.m., and trapped in the dungeon, her every bone exhausted, Starling was waiting for the results on a blood/DNA test. A few hours ago, local police had found a body near the Appalachian Mountains in a cave after following an anonymous tip-off.

The corpse's little finger was missing.

Lilia was at the crime scene, handling forensics, slowly feeding back information – that felt more like dripping, chillingly teasing – to Matt. All three had been at work for more about twenty-one hours, and it was beginning to show. Elias would be back in nine hours. Starling had phoned him, and Elias had assured Clarice that he had _not_ made a new 'friend' on his trip – he really had been delayed. And of course he had.

As she waited, Clarice's mind slowly wandered, talking to Gumb, and then just seeing the moth. So improbable, almost impossible. The darkness, the horror, and poor, poor Catherine.

She was jerked out of the reminiscence, as the office phone rang, so Clarice slid her chair towards it and picked it up.

"Starling."

"Only me, silly," laughed Lilia, "you're so formal. Has Matt got the data yet?" Clarice twisted and called:

"Matt. How's it going?" He didn't turn but called back:

"One hundred percent. Starting analysis."

"Got it all," Clarice said to Lilia, settling back.

"Okay," replied Lilia, "I'm all done here. Do you want me to stay, just in case, or do you want me back in D.C.?"

"How long will it take you to get here?"

"A few hours."

"O.K., requisition a chopper."

"O.K.," said Lilia, "see you soon."

Clarice put the phone back down, and closed her eyes.

In thirty-second's she was fast asleep.

--

Revenant, again, was in darkness – admittedly artificial – but soothing nonetheless.

It decided that its next victim would be a man.

Larger finger's you see.

--

Twelve p.m., the Dungeon.

Matt was typing furiously, his computer linked with Langley, L.A., New Your, and NSA HQ. They had matched the blood type, but for some strange reason, no DNA was found.

"Afternoon Matt," whispered Lilia in his ear, making him jump.

"Jesus, Lilia!" Matt cried, and then lowered his voice as Clarice snorted, then continued to sleep.

"How the hell do you sneak up on people like that?" Lilia smiled mischievously:

"Talent, good looks, usual sort of thing! How's the search going?" While she was whispering, her accent became more pronounced.

"Not good Lilia. So far we've found close to seven hundred on the database alone. We'll be able to get rid of most of those, when we sharpen the search, but there's still a tremendous amount to get through before we even get that far."

"How is Clarice doing?"

"Not good. She's tired, we all are…but she's feeling it more, all this with Lecter."

"What about these clues?" Lilia asked, "Is she going to follow them up?"

"Don't know…but is it wise? Can Clarice survive another chase? We already have one madman on the loose, and then Lecter on top?" Lilia shook her head:

"How long has she been asleep?"

"Three hours."

"That will have to do." Lilia walked over to Clarice, knelt down beside her, and gently stroked a finger down her cheek.

"Wake up sleepyhead," murmured Lilia. Starling's eyes slowly widened, opened, and she smiled.

"Good morning Dr Derevko," said Clarice, then looked at her watch.

"Good _afternoon_ Dr Derevko," said Clarice, correcting herself.

"Sorry to wake you Clarice, but I need to talk to you." One of Clarice's eyebrows raised.

"Any leads?" Lilia shook her head.

"I need to talk about Dr Lecter."

--

NEW YORK

"Sir, we've located Revenant…almost."

_"Almost. How the hell do you 'almost' find someone? Especially Revenant!"_

"We've tracked Revenant to North America."

_"Really. The little fact that the murders have taken place in North America had nothing to do with this astounding revelation?"_

"Sir…we need to meet. Come to HQ in Washington D.C. please. I'll explain it to you. Revenant is there."

_"O.K. Twenty-four hours. I'll be there."_

--

It was some time later, when Clarice, Matt and Lilia were sitting in a small café, savouring the sunshine, and sipping coffee.

"What about Graham?" asked Lilia, "I think that it might be worth checking his file…there might be something."

"No Lil," said Clarice, "that's not what Lecter wants. There can't be anything in the file that's relevant. Lecter might know who the killer is, or he may not. All part of the game. However, he's given me a message. Lilia, you and I are going to Florida. We're going to see Will Graham. I got tickets arranged as soon as you woke me up. Matt, I want you and Elias, when he gets back, to work on locating Revenant the old fashioned way." Matt nodded:

"Blood, sweat, and tears. Just like the old days." Lilia just nodded, then, almost as an afterthought said:

"When do we leave?"

"Five p.m."

"You've been giving this a bit of though, haven't you?" asked Lilia. Clarice nodded:

"We're just running out of time."

--

Six p.m. So much in the day, so little resolved.

At two, a young man called Alexander Strife was horrified to find his long-term partner had left him from another man – thirty years older –; his firm was going bankrupt; and the serial-murderer called Revenant had brutally kidnapped him.

At five, Clarice and Lilia boarded a plane for Florida, ready to interview the only person to ever catch Hannibal Lecter – Will Graham.

It is, however, six o' clock. Six hours from the sunny coffee café.

--

Ironically enough, at the same airport Clarice and Lilia had departed from an hour ago, Elias Irons, stands, awaiting a taxi.

"Mr Irons?" a man inquires, "your taxi sir."

"Thankyou," said Elias as the driver picked up the bags, and placed them in the boot. Elias' distinguished features smiled. Home. When they had set off, Elias relaxed.

The locks in the doors snapped shut.

Elias started, suddenly worried, impenetrable glass between him and the driver. His gun! He'd left it in his luggage! What a stupid mistake.

"Who are you?" Elias demanded, as they turned towards the outskirts of the city, "Where are you taking me?"

A few miles outside of Washington, the car slowed to a halt, the driver twisting in his seat.

"Now Special Agent Irons," the man said, his voice cultured and soft, "my name is Hannibal Lecter. I wish to talk with you."

--

**Note: **Again, apologies for the Washington mistake, my only excuse being that I am a Brit who has never visited America! No, I didn't think that was a very good excuse either! Anyhoos, moving swiftly on, I hope you enjoyed that. I don't know why, but out of all my fanfics, I think that this has to be my favourite. It's wonderful to write. Oh, well, please review!

**Disclaimer: **Hannibal is copyright to Thomas Harris; and the story to me. This story has been written on the understanding that you may read it and print it out; but you may not pass it off as your own, hire it out, or sell it for money. You also may not put it on your own or any other web page without my express written permission. Thankyou!

**JetNoir**


	5. Chapter Five

**h a n n i b a l**

**LESSONS**

**a fanfic by JetNoir**

**Note: **Just a quick note to answer the questions raised by Ellie. Firstly, the game of chess is metaphorical, it's a reference to a film by Ingmar Bergman called The Seventh Seal, in which a Knight plays a game of chess with Death. Secondly, you're right, normally there would be no possible way for a blood test to not reveal a DNA sample. However, it _will_ make sense, but I can't tell you yet – it'll give the game away! Just keep reading, and enjoy…

CHAPTER FIVE

No letter this time, for the message would come from a wholly different source – bound in the flesh of another's destiny.

--

OUTSIDE WASHINGTON D.C.

"So, Mr Irons. Let me make this very clear as I am not going to repeat this. I want to meet with Clarice. Where is she at the moment?"

Irons shuddered:

"Fl…l…orida."

"Good," murmured Lecter, "very good. Now, tell her when she gets back to put an advertisement in The Washington Post, which will read: wonder now world deny may or believe. It will be followed by a singular location of her choosing, however the meeting will be at eight o' clock, but make this absolutely clear. No teams. No surveillance. There is pen and paper in the back, take it and write what I have just said, and get out."

"You're…letting me go," murmured Elias.

"Why?" said Hannibal, "Would you prefer it if I killed you, and inscribed the message upon your rotting corpse? No? Believe me, Mr Irons, the only reason that I am letting you go is my need for secrecy, or trust me; tonight I would have tasted your heart. Now, chop chop."

Elias got out of the car, with the pen and paper in hand. The car drove away before he could get the plate.

An hour later, Elias stumbled against a pay phone, he fumbled in his pockets for a few cents, and dropped them into the slot, dialling the number of the Behavioural Science Office.

"Ito."

"Matt, it's Elias."

"Elias! Where the hell have you been? I was just about to call out a search party!"

"Matt, stop joking. It's Lecter, he's just been with me. I need to be picked up. I'm at-" he paused, looked around, and said the street he was in.

A car was with him in quarter of an hour.

--

FLORIDA

The next day, early morning.

Clarice Starling and Dr Lilia Derevko were dressed neutrally, dark coloured suits, and dark glasses. The hot Florida sun beat down on their faces, as they got out of their rented car, to the house near the sea.

They were nervous – understandably. This was not a meeting that was going to be pleasant – for either party.

Lilia knocked twice on the door, and a few moments later a woman, starting to age, her hair going grey, opened it.

"Yes?" she asked. Clarice sighed.

"Sorry to bother you ma'am, my name is Special Agent Clarice Starling, and this is Dr Lilia Derevko. We're FBI, and we would like to speak you your husband." The woman's face grew dark.

"Yes Agent Starling, I've seen you on the news. What do you want?"

"Like I said ma'am, to speak with your husband." The woman snorted bitterly:

"Go away," she snarled, "haven't you lot done enough to him."

"Molly?" a voice cried from inside, words slightly slurred, "Molly, who is it?" The woman called Molly sighed, as she opened the door wider.

"Come in. Just make it quick. Please." She led the way into the sitting room.

Clarice Starling had not flinched when she had been face-to-face with Mason Verger, but the sight of Will Graham's horrifically disfigured face shocked her to the core. His eyes were slightly glazed, and his breath reeked of alcohol. He had been drinking; it seemed heavily, a snifter of whiskey on the table next to him.

"Who are you, and how may I help?" his words were polite but short.

"My name is Clarice Starling," repeated Clarice, "and this is Dr Lilia Derevko. We're FBI."

Will smiled a little, his face twisted.

"Ah. So that's why Molly was reluctant to let you in. I guess you're here for a reason." Straight to business. He gestured for Clarice and Lilia to sit, and they did so. Molly hovered by the door.

"Mr Graham," said Clarice, "I am currently trying to track and incarcerate the serial-murderer called Revenant. As you may or may not know, I have been in contact with Dr Hannibal Lecter" at this, Graham flinched, "during the Mason Verger incident. Now, I have been assigned to this case, Dr Lecter is in frequent communication with me…constantly writing to me. Now there is a chance that within these letters he has written some clue, or reference to the killer. The thing is Mr Graham, that you're profiling abilities are second to none, you were the one to catch him, but what's more, Dr Lecter…he mentioned you."

"You have the letters? Here with you now?" asked Graham. Lilia nodded and handed them to him:

"We came up negative on forensics," she said, "we've come up negative on everything really."

Graham slowly leaved through the pages reading the hand of the man, the cannibal.

Some time had passed before he handed the letter back to Lilia.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I can't help you. Please leave me and my family alone."

Knowing she wasn't going to get anything else out of him, Clarice subtly signalled for Lilia, and her, to leave.

--

DEPARTMENT OF BEHAIVOURAL SCIENCE, FBI WASHINGTON

When Elias Irons staggered into the 'dungeon', with all its horrors, Matt Ito was horrified to see how ill he looked. It seemed that Elias had aged; indeed, Hannibal Lecter had that effect on people.

"We have to call Clarice, Matt," said Elias, "I don't trust that man, but what's more…I told him where they were."

"What!" Matt was shocked, and Elias close to collapsing.

"I was scared Matt," said Elias, "I was scared, and I screwed up."

"It happens," said Matt, as he reached for a phone. Quickly dialling a number, he signalled for Elias to sit down.

"You have reached the mobile of Clarice Starling. I'm sorry, but I'm unavailable at the moment. Please leave a message after the tone."

"Clarice, big problem," said Matt, "ring me back. Lecter abducted Irons, and then let him go. No damage, but he's spooked. However, Lecter knows where you are. Be careful, and please…get back to D.C. as soon as humanly possible."

--

UNKNOWN LOCATION

The man was alone, in his darkness…something that he relished. He had been called, summoned, if you will.

The endgame was coming – this much he knew. What might happen, however, the man didn't know. Precognition, unfortunately, was not one of the man's many talents.

The next chapter would begin soon enough.

--

FLORIDA

Midday.

Clarice and Lilia were eating a light lunch before the flight back to D.C. Clarice had a sandwich, while Lilia had sushi

"What I don't understand," said Lilia, gracefully placing sticky rice in her mouth, sesame seeds scattering to her plate, "is why Graham won't help us."

"He's afraid of retaliation," Clarice replied, "it was Lecter who turned Dolorhyde on him…that's why his face is disfigured." 

"But didn't Lecter imply you go to Graham? Surely he wouldn't do anything." Clarice paused a moment, as she savoured a mouthful of her sandwich, then:  
"Perhaps, I'm not sure. It would be rude, and Lecter despises that. However, I know that he has a dislike of Graham, which is natural. Graham caught him. Erm…however, Lecter does _admire_ Graham, because he caught him. A sort of love-hate…I'm sure you get the picture. There is one thing that you must always remember, and that is: never _ever_ underestimate what Hannibal Lecter is capable of. Lecter thrives on the suffering of others, Graham's a prime example of that. He's completely unpredictable."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Lilia said.

Some time later, they were finishing up when a shadow fell across the table.

"I will be brief," said Will Graham, "so please listen."

--

Pachelbel's Canon was playing softly, as Hannibal picked up an elegant pen, and began to write on the paper in front of him.

_Dear Clarice,_

_I know your location now. Florida. To see Will Graham, hmmm?_

_Listen to Elias. I know it's rare for me to give you 'requests' like this, perhaps you are cautious that I am not playing with you. Perhaps you are pleased at my forthcoming nature._

_You know that I enjoy fear Clarice, I enjoy watching it, and feeling it in my flesh, and in my bones. My mind relishes the fact that another is using it, merely for survival._

_However, it is not just fear I crave. If it makes you happy Clarice – and I know that to catch this serial-murderer would make you very happy – it seems that your emotions are just as potent to me. Almost quid pro quo? Is that why I am trying to help? Your emotions for my help?_

_The end is coming Clarice. Are you ready? Truly ready?_

_If you are not, then you will die._

_Clarice…_

_**Hannibal Lecter.**_

--

Florida.

"How did you find us, Will?" asked Lilia, raising an eyebrow at Clarice. Will smiled somewhat shakily, the alcohol still affecting his system.

"I followed you. Look, if Molly knew, she would only be upset. Since Lecter escaped, I've been looking over my shoulder, every single day. People have died…I just don't know what to do."

"We're not asking you to get in deep, Mr Graham," said Clarice, "but we are wondering why Lecter mentioned you, but also, what you could think of…as a profile."

"You're almost certainly looking for someone with a good knowledge of law-enforcement," said Will, "possibly ex-cop…maybe even a present one. It's unlikely that they would be unstable outwards, that is, they would have a very good façade…a mask. The finger…" Clarice looked shocked and interrupted:

"How the hell did you know that? The press were not told, it was the one detail left out to secure a true confession…that is, if the killer were to surrender."

"I was sent the case-file," said Graham, "the Director called me, sent me it. You weren't told in case I refused…at least, that's what I was told. The finger…is it a trophy? Most likely, although the person would need to preserve or freeze the severed digit. Due to the large amount of bodies, and the large amount of fingers, private storage would be a necessity. Almost certainly the person would be a loner, someone who craves frequent but brief human contact, maybe sexual, maybe not. The bodies…are any molested? Sexually?"

Clarice shook her head.

"Right…to my mind, that would mean that the act of killing, and the severing of the finger would be…'better than sex'…in itself a sexual act, but not one that comprised sexual activity. There doesn't seem to be a pattern with the selection of victims, and this is very rare…indeed, extremely disturbing. Virtually all serial-murderers have a pattern of victims, even Lecter – chosen for food. All right, not so much a pattern, but a purpose. This I think is completely random, but what's more, the only reason is pleasure. It's quite scary. This person is not going to stop, not now, not ever."

"Thankyou Mr Graham," said Clarice, "please…take care of yourself."

Will nodded and staggered off.

"Strange," said Lilia, "I really feel sorry for the poor guy."

"I know," said Clarice, "Lecter destroyed him. Come on, the flight leaves in one and a half hours."

--

The letter had been posted an hour ago, as Lecter stood in the darkness, a copy of _Le Rouge et le Noir_ open on the table in front of him.

"Chapter twenty-seven," Lecter murmured, "the world, or what the rich lack. Perhaps, Clarice, I will simply write more. But what next?"

He sipped a sticky red liquid from a glass, Claret that looks like blood.

"Ambition. Pronunciation. A Girl's Thoughts. Painful Moments. Boredom. An Attack of Gout. Last Adieux."

The decision made, he swiftly wrote those words on a note, and signed it: H.

Hannibal Lecter felt a very slight elevation in his heartbeat. It was coming, the end.

He knew that he would enjoy every single moment…

--

**Note:** Not much action this chapter, more of a talkie! However, coming up: the terror of Alexander Strife, the FBI realise that they are in trouble, and Hannibal Lecter reveals his endgame. However, I read a very interesting article the other day, about characters called 'Mary-Sues', basically new characters that are far more beautiful and talented than the original characters. I sincerely hope I have not fallen into that trap, so please tell me if I have, but for this to work I needed new people, new blood if you will; with the addition of old favourites! This has been a strange story to write, but one I am enjoying immensely, and I hope you are too. The end is coming and soon. Oh, and please review!

**Disclaimer: **Hannibal is copyright to Thomas Harris; and the story to me. This story has been written on the understanding that you may read it and print it out; but you may not pass it off as your own, hire it out, or sell it for money. You also may not put it on your own or any other web page without my express written permission. Thankyou!

**JetNoir**


	6. Chapter Six

**h a n n i b a l**

**LESSONS**

**a fanfic by JetNoir**

**Note: **It's time for the make or break…

CHAPTER SIX

When Clarice returned to the 'dungeon', she had not anticipated that Hannibal Lecter would have written to her again, so soon.

-

Dear Clarice,

I know your location now. Florida. To see Will Graham, hmmm?

Listen to Elias. I know it's rare for me to give you 'requests' like this, perhaps you are cautious that I am not playing with you. Perhaps you are pleased at my forthcoming nature.

You know that I enjoy fear Clarice, I enjoy watching it, and feeling it in my flesh, and in my bones. My mind relishes the fact that another is using it, merely for survival.

However, it is not just fear I crave. If it makes you happy Clarice – and I know that to catch this serial-murderer would make you very happy – it seems that your emotions are just as potent to me. Almost quid pro quo? Is that why I am trying to help? Your emotions for my help?

The end is coming Clarice. Are you ready? Truly ready?

If you are not, then you will die.

Clarice…

**Hannibal Lecter.**

-

MEMPHIS INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

The sound of planes roared overhead as The Man stepped down from the airplane he had just caught. This day had been a long time in the coming, but The Man felt only pleasure as he homed in on his prey.

The torrential rain showered down on him, but he was simply ignoring the inclement weather; for he found it more than ironic that all those years ago, Dr Hannibal Lecter had had his meeting with Senator Ruth Martin.

That case had been safely resolved – Buffalo Bill dead, Catherine Martin (the Senator's daughter) safe and well from her harrowing ordeal. Kidnapped by a madman, almost like Revenant.

'The world is an insane asylum; run by insane lunatics." The Man couldn't remember where that particular quote came from, but it seemed particularly apt.

Time was running out for Revenant. The Man could feel it in his soul. He had no time to dwell however, for in less than an hour, he was on a connecting flight, to Washington D.C.

Once again, it was ironic as the man stepped to the ground, met

-

DEPARTMENT OF BEHAVIOURAL SCIENCE, FBI WASHINGTON

"Don't you dare apologise," said Clarice to Elias Irons, "because I can tell you're scared that I'm angry at you. I'm not angry, not disappointed, just tired. Now, we've got a job to do. Good morning."

She went to the corner and sat down, instantly engrossed in the note, she had just been sent. Matt Ito waved feebly, then shook his head and sat down, murmuring:

"It's going to be one of _those_ days, I see."

Before she sat down, Dr Lilia Derevko went up to Elias, and whispered in his ear, teasingly:

"Well, I'm mad at you…just be careful in the future, ok?"

They set about to their respective tasks, a small team, still raw and fresh in some respects, but working like a well oiled machine, desperately trying to find the serial-murderer.

A day, frustratingly, like so many others.

-

The cold dark evening was felt by everyone outside a building at this moment, but none felt it stronger than Alexander Strife.

At two o'clock, two days ago, he was kidnapped by the serial-murderer known only to the general public, and law-enforcement agencies as 'Revenant'. Since then, he has been abandoned in an unknown location since that time – or at least unknown to everyone except Revenant – alone, blindfolded and hungry.

There is a bucket underneath him, to collect his waste. Revenant did not want a mess underneath Strife that was not easy to dispose of. Alexander hung horizontally, arms and legs outstretched and tied securely with rope to two metallic posts stuck in the ground. There was nothing beneath him and the ground but air. Close to a meter of air.

It is some time later, the whole two days, where it is cold, barely manageable for human soul and survival, when a dark clad figure, once again entered.

"What is your name?"

Alexander shrieked, and looked around frantically – or at least, as much as he conceivably could as the figure drew towards him.

"I said, what is you name?" the voice was soft but insistent.

"A…alex…ander," the man murmured.

"Alexander," repeated Revenant, "that's a nice name. It sorts of slips of the tongue. Don't you agree?" Alexander remained silent.

"Not much of a talker are you? Very well, I have a choice for you. Would you like to die quickly and painlessly…or slowly and agonisingly."

"Please just let me go," said Alexander, panic widening his eyes, close to tears, "please, I haven't seen your face, I won't say anything to the authorities, please…oh god, who are you, and what do you want."

"My name is Revenant," said the masked killer, and Alexander emitted an anguished moan at this, "and what do I want? Your soul." Alexander shut his eyes, screwing them up tight, now whimpering.

"Very well," it whispered in Alexander's ear, as Revenant knelt, drawing a thick piece of rope from its back pocket, "if you don't reply…" the figure quickly wrapped the rope around Alexander's neck, and sharply pulled it in opposite directions. Alexander screamed, but even this was reduced to a gasp, as the air was slowly and surely cut off. It didn't take long for his windpipe to collapse.

Beneath the mask, Revenant smiled, and drew out a switchblade, pressing the switch, and exposing the blade.

Within three minutes, Revenant had devoured Alexander Strife's little finger, relishing the taste, a little part of the soul of the man.

Within three hours, Alexander Strife's body (minus the finger) had been disposed of, in a location far away, the only remaining purpose of the corpse was to be discovered and identified by the FBI.

It may be a cold way of looking at things, but Revenant believed that everything in the world had a purpose, and that this was Alexander's purpose.

Fun, isn't it?

-

It was getting close to nine, and Lilia and Elias had gone home hours ago. However, Matt was awaiting the analysis of the blood of the killer. None of the team could figure out the lack of DNA, it was completely impossible. Clarice was here as well, going over one of the numerous files.

"You know what Clarice?" said Matt suddenly, looking up from his computer, "I've just had a horrible thought." Clarice looked up and raised an eyebrow:

"What is it?"

"This lack of DNA is a real puzzle. I was wondering…what if Revenant has someone on the inside. Or worse, what if Revenant _is_ someone on the inside. This would probably be more of Elias' field, but from what we can gather, the person clearly has a large and detailed knowledge of law-enforcement. What if it were one of the local police?"

"Oh Jesus," murmured Clarice, "why the hell did we not think of this earlier? Matt…get details on all law-enforcement that have been involved in the case. Start a search, known criminal records…history of mental instability…the works." Matt nodded:

"Coming right up."

-

WASHINGTON D.C.

It had taken some time for the meeting to take place, and many people had died in the interim, but now, The Man, and his subordinate had finally been able to meet. The room was dark in the Washington offices of the organisation that they both worked for, as they sat at opposite ends of a table.

"Thankyou for coming so soon," began the subordinate, "I know that you are busy sir, but first I must ask. Why the interest in this particular serial-murderer?"

"I am not at liberty to discuss that," was the simple reply from The Man, "all I can say is that the ones on top have a great interest in Revenant. You have managed to narrow down the location. Now, I have not eaten for some hours. Might I suggest that we continue this conversation in a restaurant somewhere?"

"Yes sir."

-

It was about an hour or so later after Clarice's startling idea. As soon as she closed the door, she slid the bolt home, and walked slowly into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of Rioja and a glass.

Falling into an armchair, she lazily reached out to her phone and pressed the _play_ button, to see what people had left.

"_YOU HAVE 3 MESSAGES,"_ beeped the monotonous tone of the machine.

_"FIRST NEW MESSAGE;" _

"Clarice, this is Director Tunberry. Please schedule a meeting as soon as humanly possible. Thanks."

Clarice sat a little straighter. It was rare for the Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation to make such a personal call, even rarer for one at home. Odd.

_"SECOND NEW MESSAGE;" _

"Hey," began the voice, with its soft Russian accent, "do you want to meet for breakfast tomorrow. Ring me."

Clarice pushed the _Pause_ button, and dialled Lilia's number:

_"Hello?"_

"You know, you never left your name."

_"Clarice! Didn't I? How did you know it was me then?"_

"You're the only person I know with a Russian accent."

_"Charming. So. Breakfast in the morning?"_

"Yes please. Starbucks? Around eight?"

"_Wonderful. Clarice…are you okay? You sound…well, tired."_

"Yeah…I am a bit. I'm just going to get something to eat, and just get some sleep."

"_You do that. Take care."_

"Bye."

She took a sip of the dark red liquid – any stickier, and to the eye, it could be blood. But it wasn't. Just wine.

_Play _

_"FINAL NEW MESSAGE;" _

"Hello Clarice."

Clarice sat bolt upright in shock as the familiar voice of Hannibal Lecter poured through the speakers.

"How would your Mommy and Daddy react, now, right now, on this day of all days in the world? Would they be proud of you? Or would they hate you, despise you? For constantly and consistently putting your life in danger? Rest easy tonight Clarice. Au Revoir."

How?

After the last time Lecter had phoned, Clarice had had her number rapidly changed. How did he do it?

Realising that she would never get any answers tonight, she got up, and taking her wine with her, went to the kitchen, and started to chop an onion after washing her hands.

Switching the radio on, she smiled bitterly as a familiar piece of piano washed over her: Bach's Goldberg Variations.

Isn't life full of surprises?

-

It is getting close to midnight.

An uptown restaurant is preparing to close for the night, after a profitable evening. Only a few people remain, completing their meals. In a dark corner sit to men, opposite to each other, conversing quietly. One has been eating Steak Tartare, the other, Fruits de Mer. One is a man of great importance in a secret world, the other, his subordinate from the Washington office. They have been around the world on a chase that has lasted close to three years.

Tonight, that chase will end.

Nobody knows very much about the two men, but if a skilled investigator were to try he might learn the following:

Both men worked for a covert organisation, unaffiliated with any world government, or indeed the United Nations. This organisation specialised in investigation, and was hired by many different groups, sometimes civilian, corporate, and even military.

The two men that met, had a personal interest in the case of Revenant, for they knew more than the FBI did. The Bureau had only investigated the case from the first murder in 1997 – when it was only known as 'KFC' – and the more recent murders. They believed that these were the only killings, however the man knew different. The Man's sister had been Revenant's fourth victim, killed in Romania. The so-called state of hibernation had been nothing more than a sham – for the killer had simply moved around the world.

"So what's our next move, sir?" asked the subordinate.

"It is my intention to locate, and confront Revenant. Then kill it," was the reply from The Man. The subordinate nodded slowly, and continued to eat.

"Excuse me?" came a new voice, "I couldn't help but be intrigued by your conversation." Without waiting for an invitation the new man sat down.

The Man turned and regaled the stranger with a baleful glare:

"Can I help you sir?"

"Yes," the stranger replied, "you most certainly can. I heard that you were looking for Revenant. I have some information about it that I do not wish to share with the authorities. If you would care to follow me outside when you've finished…"

Indeed the men had finished their meal, so they rose instantly, and walked out the door after paying.

A dark alleyway – again, the cliché – was the destination of the three men.

"So," asked the subordinate, "who are you?"

"I am the Ghost whom you seek."

The two men exchanged a worried glance.

"Revenant?" said the subordinate.

"Prove it," said The Man.

Revenant smiled:

"A little finger for your trouble." The two men again glanced, and pulled out two loaded pistols.

"Freeze!" said The Man quietly. Revenant smiled.

"I don't think so." He twisted agilely to one side, and slashed the subordinate's throat with a curved knife he had concealed in his hand. Blood spurted to the pavement, as The Man gasped in shock, and squeezed off a round. The muzzle exploded, but the bullet missed Revenant, who knocked the gun out of The Man's hand.

"Just one thing," said Revenant, "you think that I am a serial-murderer," the stranger smiled at this point, "but I am _not_ Revenant. Simply Dr Hannibal Lecter."

"No," The Man cried, "it can't be."

"So sorry," said Lecter, "but I'll make this quick."

To Lecter's credit, The Man's murder was very quick, but it was also, very, very painful. As The Man fell to the floor, gurgling through a slashed throat, he thought of his sister, and how he had failed her.

Within moments, he had joined her in death, for the rest of eternity.

-

Late morning.

"Yes sir," said Clarice, speaking into a telephone, "three o' clock this afternoon. I'll be there." She put it down.

"Who was that?" asked Lilia, nose-deep in a forensics report, "sounded important."

"Um-hum…Director Tunberry. I'm going to see him, to give a progress report. You too."

"Right…thanks for telling me!"

"My pleasure."

"Clarice!" called Matt from the other end of the dungeon, "I've just had a phone call from Elias…he's in the field after receiving a tip-off. It's just been confirmed…another attack by Revenant. We're still trying to ID the body, but the little finger is missing."

Clarice winced:

"Estimated time of death?"

"We're still establishing the exacts, but somewhere in the region of sixteen hours, give or take."

"Sixteen hours! That's not long," Lilia cried, "maybe Revenant's getting more careless!"

"Hmmm…we can but hope," murmured Clarice.

"So," said Lilia, "what happens next?"

"Well, Elias will finish up on site…I'm not sure. Look…could I ask the both of you to leave me for a while. I don't know why but…I just need to think this one out." Matt nodded:

"Sure. I need to go to the lab anyway, you know, for follow up."

"I'll head home to change," said Lilia, "we'll need to make an impression for the Director! I've got some reports from local police to catch up on as well." Clarice smiled gratefully.

"Thanks."

-

Clarice Starling felt like crying, but she knew that if she started, she wouldn't be able to stop. This was maddening, this waiting, so frustrating. To divert herself from the problem, she turned to the mail that had just been delivered.

The first of the two had been re-directed, and even before she opened it, she knew that it was from him.

_Ambition. Pronunciation. A Girl's Thoughts. Painful Moments. Boredom. An Attack of Gout. Last Adieux_

**H.**

What was that supposed to mean? Clarice knew that Lecter loved games, but this was baffling. The second, again from Lecter. It was almost as if he had posted one after forgetting the other. Was the good Doctor going insane? Clarice smiled at the feeble attempt at humour. She settled back, glad to be alone for a while and began to read.

-

Dear Clarice,

I know who Revenant is.

What would you do Clarice, to get this information. Kill me? Almost certainly, but then, if I were dead, then how would you get the oh so crucial information, hmmm?

What if I were to surrender Clarice, to put myself in your arms? Would you keep me incarcerated. You do realise, that because of my intervention, that I have helped in the capture – or rather – death, of two dangerous serial-murderers.

I want to help you Clarice, really I do. Of course you have no reason at all to believe me, I never would expect you too.

Consider this a warning, Clarice.

Having fun?

**Hannibal Lecter.**

P.S. How many letters have you received from me now, Clarice? Almost like our time together while I was incarcerated, although one sided. Has Elias told you of what I requested? No, almost certainly not…I'm afraid I seemed to scare him somewhat, I _do_ seem to have that affect on people. Talk to him Clarice, or ring him.

Ta-ta.

**H.**

Frowning, Clarice leaned over and picked up the phone, dialling Elias in the field.

"_Irons."_

"Elias, it's Clarice. Look just a quick call. During your time with Lecter…did he request anything?"

"_Oh! Damn it, Clarice, I completely forgot. I am so, so sorry."_

"Doesn't matter. Elias, what did he say?"

"_He wanted to meet. It would be at eight on the date that your advertisement would be placed in The Washington Post. You need to put: 'wonder now world deny may or believe' followed by the place you want to meet. Yes, I heard you the first time, I'm coming! Sorry Clarice, they've found something. Look, I'll ring you if we find something useful."_

"Okay Elias. Bye."

Damn.

How did this happen? How did Elias Irons – a respected FBI agent – screw up so badly?

Sighing and shaking her head she pressed _disconnect_, and dialled a new number.

"_Hello. The Washington Post."_

"Hello. I wish to place an advertisement."

-

Two O' Clock.

The house was sparsely decorated, as the occupant merely preferred it that way, it almost reflected the personality, or rather the moral nature of the person. Revenant disliked clutter, believing it showed a messy and disorganised mind.

Revenant was sitting with the house in complete darkness, with merely a small table lamp illuminating the heavy file that it was reading. Revenant looked up as a loud knocking came from the door.

"Hey!" yelled the voice, "It's me! Are you in?" Revenant got up, slowly putting down the door after placing a bookmark at the place, and sauntered over to let FBI Special Agent Clarice Starling in.

"Grab your coat," Clarice Starling said, "we're late."

Dr Lilia Derevko smiled, illuminating her beautiful face, grabbed her coat and followed Starling out the door.

-

**Note:** Um…yeah. What else can I say? To be concluded…

**Disclaimer: **Hannibal is copyright to Thomas Harris; and the story to me. This story has been written on the understanding that you may read it and print it out; but you may not pass it off as your own, hire it out, or sell it for money. You also may not put it on your own or any other web page without my express written permission. Thankyou!

**JetNoir**


	7. Chapter Seven

**h a n n i b a l**

**LESSONS**

**a fanfic by JetNoir**

**Note: **Due to the differing chronologies between the novels and films; I have opted to use the films time-frame, as it makes it far simpler considering this is a follow on from the film version of Hannibal. Also, certain events happen later in the films (especially Red Dragon), which is extremely useful too! (Mischa though is a usage of dramatic license only being used in the original novels). This also contains violent scenes (but if you've made it this far, I don't think you would be unduly upset!).

CHAPTER SEVEN

Darkness.

_"Tell me, Clarice, would you ever say to me...'stop. If you loved me, you'd stop'?"_

So cold. A single breath taken. A single breath expelled. All she could do to keep going. It hurt in that dark place; hurt Clarice Starling in ways she never thought were ever imaginable.

_"Not in a thousand years."_

Defiant as always, to the last. Memory's, so cruel. The car swerving. Lilia screaming.

Lilia…

Oh, Jesus, what could have happened? Clarice simply did not know, it had all happened so quickly, in a rushed and frantic blur.

_"Not in a thousand years." The growl. The lunge. "That's my girl." The kiss._

Darkness.

That was almost becoming her mantra.

--

**24 Hours Later**

BUT FIRST, THE NEWS (excerpt from BBC WORLD SERVICE)

_The Federal Bureau of Investigation is becoming increasing concerned regarding the whereabouts of two of its top agents, who recently have gone missing. Special Agent Clarice Staring, and Doctor Lilia Derevko were last seen leaving the house of Derevko to attend a meeting with FBI Director Tunberry, but vanished on route. Starling attained the status of minor celebrity after the infamous slaying of serial killer Jame 'Buffalo Bill' Gumb, and the rescue of Catherine Martin, the daughter of the then Senator Ruth Martin, after interviewing the notorious serial-killer Hannibal 'the Cannibal' Lecter, whom it was rumoured was crucial to the grisly investigation, before he himself escaped from federal custody. Recently, she again hit the spotlight after the fallout of a botched raid on Evelda Drumgoe, and her encounters with insane millionaire Mason Verger, and escaped from the incarceration of Dr Hannibal Lecter, in which Paul Krendler, of the Justice Department, was savagely murdered._

_Recently Starling has been running the elite team assigned to bring the serial-murderer known as 'Revenant' to justice, in which Dr Derevko was assisting. Derevko is herself, a veteran of the Bureau, specialising in forensic science, and psychological profiling, making her a crucial member._

_It is requested that if the public learn of the whereabouts of either Special Agent Starling of Dr Derevko, they inform FBI Headquarters on the following free-phone number immediately._

--

DEPARTMENT OF BEHAVIOURAL SCIENCE, FBI WASHINGTON

Matt Ito and Elias Irons sat facing each other, both worried, both unsure. The disappearance of two experienced officers was almost unheard of in the Bureau's history.

"Its Revenant, isn't it," said Irons, breaking the uneasy silence that had pervaded the room's already uncomfortable atmosphere. Matt nodded:

"It could be. We don't know for certain. We don't know _anything_ for certain. Maybe…they eloped!" Elias grinned wanly at that.

"Fat chance. So…what do we do?"

"I'm not sure," replied Matt, "unless I'm gravely mistaken, this is pretty much unprecedented." He paused, then: "We have to find them. It's as simple as that. If it is Revenant…they could both be dead by now…they might still be alive…we just have to make sure we don't run out of time.

--

BALTIMORE - 1979

The doorbell rang, a soft chime that matched the elegant townhouse perfectly. The small, sleek figure walked slowly towards the door.

"Special Agent Starling. Right on time." Clarice Starling – wearing a beautiful black dress: a gift from the owner of this house – smiled and followed her host into the hall. She allowed her bag to be taken and hung up.

"Thankyou so much for inviting me," Clarice said, and now it was the host's turn to smile.

"My pleasure Special Agent Starling," said Dr Hannibal Lecter, "please go through…but you must excuse me. The lamb is almost done."

--

PRESENT DAY

Snapping out of his daydream, Hannibal Lecter focused more clearly on his task in hand. The darkness in this dank place was chilling, perhaps claustrophobic for a weaker mind, but Lecter's own mind found the darkness soothing, even comforting – although Lecter recognized the dangers of living in darkness for too long. He had become too accustomed to it in his dark cell; he found that he must always strive to seek the light…

The daydream was extremely odd, and although with his significant history of psychology and psychiatry, Lecter had no idea what it could mean. Admittedly that time in Baltimore was one where he had been free…but Clarice was the wrong age. At the time she would only have been a very young woman, this was an older, wiser Clarice.

The only one person in the world he had ever considered protecting.

The only one that could come close to Mischa.

--

DARKNESS

"Fascinating, isn't it."

Clarice Starling jerked upright, and then fell backwards into the straps holding her on the floor. She shuddered as the figure walked forward, and with a single match, lit a large fire on the floor.

Steady waves of heat washed over her, and her eyes blinked blearily as the cave was awash with light, a sudden juxtaposition with the previous absolute darkness.

After blinking, she saw a figure in the corner, the one that had just spoken to her moments earlier. It was a small figure, one that walked slowly towards Clarice's trapped body.

"Revenant?" asked Clarice. The figure slowly nodded in confirmation.

"What have you done with Lilia?" Clarice's voice moved to a growl.

The figure kept coming, until it was standing right over Clarice, and then gently sat on her, straddling Clarice's stomach. Slowly, the arms moved up, and pulled off the hood.

After she saw Revenant's face Clarice Starling moaned pitifully, as only true lambs could, at the realisation that the women she considered her friend was in reality, a serial murderer.

--

"How could we have been such fools?" sighed Matt Ito quietly. It was later in the day, and as he sat and read a letter, firmly entrenched in his hands, Elias Irons came over, his face concerned;

"What is it Matt? What's going on?" The letter was thrust at him;

"Read," said Matt bitterly, "read our failure." Elias picked up the piece of paper, and started to glance at the words…

_For the attention of Matthew Ito and Elias Irons,_

_I first apologise for the lateness of this communiqué. When I heard about Agent Starling's disappearance, I began to work, and I believe I have done all that is necessary. However, I will not do this for free. I give you all the information you need on faith, and what I want in return is the reason you Mr Ito, choose a solitary existence, and why you Mr Irons, seek comfort in the arms of all those women. An advert in the periodicals on the third Monday of any month. Anonymously, as you will no doubt choose, so under the name of Mr Lionel Amb, and Mr Stuart Heep. A little humiliation should strengthen your souls._

_Now, to Clarice…I believe that who you are looking for is a person with a background with law enforcement. Also, due to the inability to find a DNA strand, then perhaps someone with a very good knowledge of biology and forensics, who is in a position to taint and corrupt the evidence._

_Perhaps a good Doctor-friend?_

_Come now gentlemen, I cannot make it any clearer than that._

_As to the location of the two foes/friends, perhaps somewhere with a view, high up, where a person may feel comfort or even familiarity. Somewhere where she would know you would never look, where she had been before._

_I do not want Starling dead – especially not like this. The world would lose much of its interest._

_And do not forget your answers, for if silence if your only defence…I know where you both life. And everyone has to sleep sometime…hmmm?_

_Fly._

_**Hannibal Lecter.**_

--

OFFICE OF THE DIRECTOR OF THE FBI, WASHINGTON D.C.

"Commander's office please."

"_Who is speaking?"_

"Director Tunberry of the FBI. This is urgent."

_"Yes sir…putting you through."_

"_Director Tunberry?"_

"Commander, I have an urgent situation. We believe we have located one of our officers who has been deemed missing. We need D. C. P. D. coverage urgently. We have reason to know the serial murderer called Revenant has kidnapped Clarice Starling. Revenant is in fact Dr Lilia Derevko of the FBI. We think she has been taken to the same cave in the Appalachian Mountains where Angela Gray was killed."

_"Yes sir. On our way."_

"Thankyou. The FBI will be there immediately."

--

Miles away, sirens were wailing as police rapidly converged to the cave Lilia Derevko was holding Clarice Starling. Neither knew that fact, they were both to far away to here. Starling was wrapped up in a cloak of silent terror, and disbelief. Surely she would have known. Surely this was impossible. Her bound wrists and feet were agonisingly sore, the cold ground like a tomb, slowly enclosing in on her.

Light was blocked from the entrance as Lilia walked back in. She walked over silently and knelt beside Clarice. She had been crying slightly, and her voice was softer than usual as she spoke.

"I'm sorry Clarice, I truly am. I know this must be hard for you…but look at it this way. Why would you want to go on living in this horrible world? It's cruel and cold, and it is never ever going to change." Clarice interrupted her;

"It's cruel and evil, this world we live in, because of people like _you_." Lilia smiled slightly.

"No Clarice, that simply isn't true. If I were a monster, I'd make you suffer…but I will make this quick, and painless. And after I have consumed your soul, you will continue to exist, through me, in a state of pure bliss. You will be safe Clarice. You will be free." She gently rolled Clarice onto her back, and with the other hand, slid a razor-sharp knife from the holster on her back. Clarice mumbled something unintelligible, and started to wriggle desperately from side to side. Derevko held Clarice's head firmly, to prevent it from moving.

"Hush darling," Lilia said, "it will all be over soon."

The knife rose, aimed at the base of her skull.

The knife fell.

The knife stopped, half an inch from Clarice's head.

"Let go of my arm," said Dr Lilia Derevko.

"No," said Dr Hannibal Lecter.

--

The sirens could be heard however by Matt and Elias, as they ran through the halls of FBI Washington, to get to the roof. Awaiting them was a helicopter, they had commandeered a few moments earlier.

"D. C. P. D., and the local Sheriff's office are mobilizing towards the mountains," said Director Tunberry, who was running to catch up, "please be careful." He stopped, puffing and panting, unable to keep up with the insane pace Ito and Irons were keeping.

On the roof, they ducked to prevent the strong wind caused by the rotor to knock them both over. They slid past the open door, closed it, and put on their respective headphones.

And were away.

--

In the confusion, Clarice was able to turn herself over, and back against a wall. The two Doctors faced each other, polite expressions forced on their faces, and each with a knife in one hand.

"Do you want her?" asked Lilia, slowly edging away.

"Yes…" said Lecter, a sly smile creeping into his features, "but perhaps she is not the one I am here for. I've helped you already, the two men trailing you from…_The Organisation_. Tell me, are you still lost Lilia." Lilia's eyes blazed as she lunged forward, which was easily parried by Lecter, with a dull metallic _clang._

Clarice was instantly struck by the similarities in the combatants, both with tremendous wiry strength, small, and powerful. The sickening fact that remained unchangeable was that she was the prize in this sick gladiatorial contest. For whoever won…she would lose.

Lilia struck high, then low, Lecter calmly sweeping his blade in a simple defence, then shifting to attack, he twisted deftly under Lilia's guard, striking at her arm – the one not carrying the knife – living a long bloody slash in it's wake. Lilia, in turn, ducked and weaved; using only the knife for protection, but Lecter aimed a heavy kick at her stomach, which spent her sprawling to the ground. Seeing her guard was down, Lecter leaped towards her and brought his knife down heavily, and by bringing her knife clumsily upwards, Lilia was barely able to prevent her face being split in two.

Kicking Lecter off her, she rolled to her feet, and ducked downwards, Lecter's sweep aimed at her head missing her, and she slashed Lecter's belly. Lecter choked with pain, but it was only a flesh wound. The knives connected sending a violent cacophony through to Starlings ears. Again, and again, they circled, duelling and drawing blood.

Lilia dropped down again, but Lecter anticipated, and countered, aiming at Lilia's hand, and hitting – ironically, chopping her little finger off. Lilia screeched with pain, her eyes wild with fury and launched a desperate counterattack, but to no avail. Lecter reached out, grabbing Lilia's fingerless wrist, forcing her to drop the knife, which she did. As it fell to the floor, Lilia twisted away from Lecter, and grabbed for the knife with her other hand…and gasped as Lecter plunged his own knife deep into her unprotected stomach. Dark blood spurted out of the wound, and twisting, Lecter withdrew the knife. Lilia was crying with the pain now, and with the pain of losing. Lecter slowly walked behind her, cradling the back of her head on the front of his shoulder.

"Goodbye…Dr Lilia Derevko," he intoned solemnly, as he raised the knife, kissing it to her throat.

"Clarice…" Lilia murmured, tears flowing freely from her beautiful eyes.

Lecter drew the knife swiftly against her throat, opening it, red blood gushing out, her face growing paler, and paler, so by the time she fell to the floor, she was dead.

--

Clarice Starling cringed as Lecter gently cut the bonds, but Lecter shushed her.

"I know that you would kill me, if you had the chance, Clarice…but let me help." He drew from a bag he had left in the entrance to the cave, a syringe, filled with a colourless liquid."

"W…wh…w…hat is that?" murmured Clarice, shivering.

"A combination of tranquilliser and painkiller," Lecter said, "when I'm a safe distance away, I will call for an ambulance."

As the needle slid in, Clarice looked into the eyes of Lecter and asked:

"How did you find me?"

"I followed you," said Lecter simply.

"In your letter…'what I hold so dear'…what is it?"

"My freedom."

"How did you know about…about Lilia?"

"Shush," said Lecter, "no more questions.

And as she slid into a deep, unconscious state, the face of Hannibal Lecter was the last thing she remembered.

"Sleep…my lamb."

--

The helicopter was drawn in, as it arrived shortly afterward, to the large fire Lecter had carefully constructed. Next to it, lay the sleeping Starling, so when the 'copter landed, Matt and Elias ran out frantically. By the time they had checked the area, weapons drawn, and finding the bloodless body of Lilia Derevko, the ambulance, not to mention the police had finally arrived. Too late to safe Starling, if the aforementioned Dr Derevko had still been alive, but that was only another possibility, that might have occurred, or, might not have again.

But the thing that remains the most important stays true. She was safe.

--

From a distance, Hannibal Lecter watched the helicopter leaving the cliffs, and shouldering his pack, he turned away from the cold mountain, and began to walk, far away, to where the police would never find him.

Was this a wise decision that he had made? Or something that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Strangely, in his heart, Lecter knew that – for the time being – he had done the right thing.

One more stop left, as he fingered an object in his pocket.

--

The Hospital, some days later.

Clarice Starling had refused all visitors, except for a brief talk to Matt Ito, to assure him, that she would be fine.

But she was not, and knew that it would be a long time for the scars to heal.

She felt betrayed, and she didn't know why. Was it because her trusted co-workers had arrived so late? Because her friend had died with her name on her lips? Or because her friend had deceived her? One of the very few people she ever let get close since Ardelia Mapp…and yet nothing was what they had first appeared.

Bitterness flooded her body, and bile rose in her throat. Death and betrayal…that was all this entire job seemed to have ever brought her.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a nurse who came in silently, respecting Clarice's need for silence and solitude. She had brought a letter, which, after sitting up, she opened. She recognised the distinctive handwriting instantly. Bizarrely the only one who _hadn't_ forsaken her.

--

Dear Clarice,

Once again, I'm leaving America…but I couldn't leave without sending a last letter. Do you feel betrayed by your friend's Clarice? More specifically Lilia? From what I learned, hiding in that cave, it seemed that she loved you…in one way or the other. I don't know whether it was meant to be homosexual, maternal, friendship, or simply a disturbed mind trying to seek comfort. A disturbed mind…I suppose that you would believe I was an authority on that.

The question that has been raised however, is at once both fascinating…and disturbing. I'm talking about trust Clarice. Trust. Will you ever be able to trust another living soul, as you once trusted your friends? Will you lye awake at night, and cry, because your now damaged nature will ever prevent you from finding friendships…hmmm?

I have always found solitude to be especially useful. I know that I am different to other people, and how they view me. Yet I view myself as perfectly normal, and everyone else to be the people who are different.

You have always been an unusual person, Clarice, and it leads me to wonder if this has been your lesson.

If that is so…then I hope the lesson has been learned.

**fini**

**Note:** This has been an insanely difficult chapter to write, and has taken far longer than I anticipated. It feels completely different from the rest of the story, but I suppose that was my intention! I am planning two follow-ups, and I wonder whether Lilia's story – or rather her memory – is yet too finish. Hope you enjoyed it, and please review!

**Disclaimer: **Hannibal is copyright to Thomas Harris; and the story to me. This story has been written on the understanding that you may read it and print it out; but you may not pass it off as your own, hire it out, or sell it for money. You also may not put it on your own or any other web page without my express written permission. Thankyou!

**JetNoir**


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